by Chris Hechtl
Once complete Garth would be one hell of a tough nut for the Horathains to crack. She'd still need to work on the inner star system defenses though.
Of the sixteen damaged ships, the four Federation ships had been returned to duty though they'd been sent back to Dead Drop and eventually Protodon and Antigua for a full refit within the first six weeks of her arrival. Stennis had also left under her own power a week later. Five more ships were nearly fixed up enough to head out on their own.
She was expecting dribbles of ships from New Horizon at any time. The constant repairs and convoys, plus the construction on the jump point, was making it hard for her to expand and upgrade the repair yard. She'd also been informed that she was going to lose at least a platoon, more likely a battalion when they moved to phase 3 and H001.
She wasn't looking forward to that and what havoc it would do to her fragile schedules. But the silver lining was that they'd begin emptying out some of the warehouses freeing up room in them and quite possibly allowing her people to stop constructing the things.
Overseeing so many projects in so many directions was mind boggling. She understood why she required an A.I. to just help her keep track of everything let alone stay on top of the schedules and the details.
-~~~///^\~~~-
Commander Briggs was amused when he received an email that he had been promoted to captain JG. He wiggled his mustache and harrumphed but refused to allow his people to throw some sort of party or ceremony. The last thing he wanted to do was to draw attention to himself.
He was afraid his days as a field spook were numbered if he kept in the spotlight for much longer. He had that itch that told him he might be a target. Most likely he was. It didn't bother him as much as the idea that the people around him were also targets. Loosing Marissa sucked on many levels and had reminded him of the dangers of his work.
Of their work, he reminded himself. Marissa would have been the first to call him on that one. She had volunteered. He had to remind himself that she hadn't been a babe in the woods but a woman with a mind of her own.
He checked on the status boards. They had additional security around the vast warehouses and storage depots. Most of the illicit activity around them had come from nosy locals. A few were teens looking to get into trouble. Others had been people looking for something to steal to supplement their income. It was amusing to offer them a job when they were caught rather than incarcerating them. The look on their faces! He shook his head at the memory of the last kid. The jaw-dropping dumbstruck look had given him a good chuckle.
Fifth Fleet was no longer in orbit like the Sword of Damocles, and the population knew it. He was not thrilled about that, but he had at least kept most of the Marines. They also had full satellite coverage in orbit and could call a Second Fleet ship in for KEW fire support to help out with hotspots if needed.
And they hadn't had call for any help in weeks, not since Fifth Fleet departed. He didn't trust how quiet it was. Something was up. The fact that the shoe was on the other foot and he was now the defender against a resistance wasn't ironically funny anymore.
There was a spot of good news though. The POWs had been largely cleaned out and shipped out on the returning freighters. Once they were in Protodon, they'd be someone else's problem permanently. The camp was still open, however; anyone they caught on the ground was shipped up to it for interviews and possible shipment to an internment camp elsewhere.
It was getting the message across that if you messed with the Federation, they were serious about finding you, catching you, and punishing you. He was making sure they weren't heavy handed though; anyone caught in their nets who was innocent they released. They even released a few they knew were bad just to track them and whoever they contacted.
No, something was up. This General K was getting ready for something, most likely for Fourth Division's arrival.
-~~~///^\~~~-
Agent N'gumo watched with hooded eyes as the attack entered its action phase. He'd wanted to perform something more solid on the civilian turncoats to warn them from kissing up to the enemy but the general had denied him that for the moment. They needed to appear neutral to the population for a little while longer.
Which meant his people had to pick their targets carefully. Hence, the sniper attack on the sailors.
He heard the crack of the round and saw one go down, then the others react. He made sure his electronic binoculars were recording everything. He was sure there were plenty of soldiers and sailors who'd love to see that sort of payback.
The whole point of the exercise was to observe the enemy's response. He had hidden cameras and observers around the square. They even had a couple of antennae up to hopefully pick up combat chatter. It would be encrypted but knowing what frequencies they used would allow them to monitor those same frequencies later. They might even find ways to jam them too.
He looked at his pocket watch when the first armored air car arrived. Five minutes. So, they had a ready rapid-response team on deck. Interesting.
They also seemed to know the direction of the fire. He was a bit thrown off by the wash of a second armored air car and Marines fast lining down onto the rooftop where the sniper team had been.
If his people had stuck to the plan, they were long gone after the fourth shot. If they'd lingered, then it was a problem. The backup team would take them out if they were caught, but that might expose them to unwanted enemy attention.
This too was valuable. Under the right circumstances, he could see hitting a fast reaction force. Draw them in and then hit them with an IED or SAM.
Yes, he definitely could see some distinct possibilities for the future.
-~~~///^\~~~-
John Smith had been privately amused to be an undercover agent for the Horathains while actually a spy for the Feds. The mind boggled.
Since he had just the one hand, he'd been detailed as an observer, which suited him just fine. Someone had rigged up a prosthetic for him to help grip things. He'd made certain to make it clear he was grateful and also bitter that he hadn't gotten medical treatment. His griping about how the Feds had focused on women and kids had become something everyone around him just nodded and mostly ignored.
Which was what he wanted. He'd put plenty of effort into the right delivery, pointing out that an able-bodied person was more useful to an economy than some sniveling brat. The brat had a lifetime to get fixed up; he had been left to try to fend for himself with one hand.
He pursed his lips as he observed the sniper attack. He couldn't do anything about it. Trying to stop it would have potentially blown his cover, so he'd done what any good deep cover agent did. He'd rode it out. He hadn't liked it, but he had to play the long game.
He used his arm to move freight right up until the attack and then turned with others to look at the gunshots and air cars. He shielded his face from the dust clouds and swore like many of the others around him as the Fed Marines came in like angry hornets.
He kept detailed mental notes, aware others will be doing the same. He'd been taught to give the right information to maintain his cover. He also knew he would be tested.
He wondered how many of the observers were there to watch the response and realize how the enemy could come down on them. Did they need the reminder to cool the firebrands? Quite possibly. They occasionally needed a healthy dose of reality to see what worked and what didn't.
-~~~///^\~~~-
Captain Ozman was on hand with General Kissinger when the first reports came back of the sniper attack. It was one of three planned for the weekend, an escalating series of events to do multiple things. It allowed them to assess the attack, the enemy's response, and also the behavior of the population.
It also allowed the general to exercise his people and their discipline and critique their performance. Seeing the enemy's response would temper some of the firebrands while getting away clean would help with morale.
She was more or less out of her league though or at least s
he thought she was. When the general started to ask her about ways to bring down a building and how to hide explosives from modern sensors, she was drawn into the fight once more.
-~~~///^\~~~-
Captain Briggs was not happy about the sniper attack—two dead one wounded. The enemy had been long gone too; they'd gotten some forensics on the shooters but no images. Whoever had planned it had been very careful to take their air and satellite coverage into account.
Which meant it hadn't been an off-the-cuff rogue as some people had initially thought.
The second and third attack had also caused fatalities, three with two civilians injured in a panicked stampede. He was even less happy about the bombing scare in the market. It had turned out to be just a pack, but he couldn't help but agree that it had been a test of their responses.
Something was definitely up.
-~~~///^\~~~-
Amadeus listened to the news report. He too was not happy about the latest string of attacks. It had been timed well; people were just starting to relax and feel safe in the safe zones. It was working people up, getting them to question the Marines. It meant they were laughing stocks since they hadn't caught the perpetrators.
Which just encouraged copycats. On Garth that was a bad thing. The planet had been one of the first and therefore the longest occupied worlds of the “empire.” They had therefore been thoroughly indoctrinated and most of their nonhuman population had been “cleansed.”
Second and Fifth Fleet's Marines were overwhelmed by the situation on Garth. It wasn't fair to the Marines from Second since they were below half strength after all the deployments on Dead Drop. In fact he'd thrown them at Garth on a whim, and it was costing them a bit.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and then snuffled. He could do little to help on the ground; they had just about every Marine he could spare. The best he could do was to maybe put a cruiser or two in orbit to give them additional fire support. They wouldn't be able to do much more than listen and watch in some cases though; by the time they were overhead or got a fighter into position, any combat might be over. And it wasn't like they could call an air strike in on urban fighting.
He frowned and then cut the orders anyway. After that he checked on the status of the four divisions in movement. The army had two divisions en route, both had gotten to Protodon. The Marines First, Second, and Fifth Divisions had arrived in Dead Drop some time ago and had secured the planet. General Kodiak's Fourth Division had just arrived three days before but had already signaled they were bypassing the planet for Garth.
That was good, great even. It meant that the Marines embattled on the planet would be seeing relief just a little bit sooner.
-~~~///^\~~~-
Dead Drop
Once they reported in, General Kodiak assessed the latest information on the planet in a series of implant downloads. Archie and Theodore had things in hand with their divisions. They were waiting on an army division or two to come in and relieve them. Both Archie and Theodore made it clear they were not going to sit out the main event.
Well, there was going to be issues with transport. As soon as an army division arrived to relieve him, Archie was going to hop it and head over to Garth. Once there Valenko would have to turn over command. He had no problem with that. It would delay troops moving in the pipeline though. There were only so many troop ships to go around at the moment.
That didn't seem to faze Archie however. He was aching for a real fight.
He had to snort at that. The real action at the moment seemed to be on Garth. He reported in and then passed the order for the convoy to continue to its final stop while he received downloads about Garth and the general war front.
-~~~///^\~~~-
Kittyhawk
Orville had the watch when a ship appeared out of hyperspace a hundred million kilometers off the ship's port beam. Apparently, word had gotten to the picket in B-95a3 and help had finally arrived. He informed the XO who then called the medics to wake the captain.
Their long ordeal was finally coming to an end.
-~~~///^\~~~-
"Kittyhawk ho, 99.4 million kilometers off of our port side, sir," the CIC rating said. There was an immediate smattering of applause and cheers at the news.
It had been a close call the captain thought. They'd overshot once and had come out a light week further back and then had to turn around.
"Quiet," Captain Sheldon ordered. "Comm, raise them and let them know the lost has been found."
"Aye aye, sir."
-~~~///^\~~~-
Lieutenant Commander Jerrica Wilder had been awake when the rescue ship had arrived. She smiled in relief, feeling tears prick her eyes as intense emotions hit her. "We're rescued," she murmured. "Finally."
"I don't like being a damsel in distress but for once I'll take it,” Orville quipped from her office link. She turned to him in surprise and then the mental image of the A.I. in drag had her giggling as intense relief made her entire wound-up body relax almost explosively. Her tears flowed again when the PA came on with the voice of a comm tech from Danford letting them know they were there.
-~~~///^\~~~-
B-97C
“Come on, come on,” Captain Iesha Cartwright murmured, waiting impatiently for the report from CIC.
“It's confirmed, two cruisers,” the head of the watch in CIC reported in a subdued tone of voice.
“Damn!” the captain snarled, pounding her armrest for a moment. “Damn!” It was obvious from the number of convoys she was seeing that the enemy had taken Dead Drop. Admiral De Gaulte had most likely fallen back. They were building up for a big push into Garth if they hadn't done it already. The quartet of super dreadnoughts she'd seen pass through said they were holding. The ships hadn't been in a hurry.
Which didn't bode well for her people.
“They never said it'd be easy,” her XO said. She turned a glower on him and then looked back to the plot. “No, no they didn't.”
Her Omaha class light cruiser Kachin Dao and her division mate Scissori had been detailed to take on the enemy convoys behind enemy lines. She was well aware that they hadn't been selected for their abilities. An Omaha was old. Her stealth was three generations old even before the Xeno war. The only thing keeping them safe from the prying eyes of the escorts was the vast distances involved and her insistence on running silent.
After all, space was big. There were a lot of places two cruisers could hide.
She was irritated that she hadn't killed that escort carrier. And they hadn't gotten that transport either. After that she'd moved them into B-97C to hunt there, expecting the enemy to be hunting for them in B-97A. She had even considered going to DD001ns, SNHH or B-97B for a layover.
Unfortunately, they'd used up most of the caches in B-97B. At best she could get some fuel and some rest for the crew. That didn't solve their parts or food issues.
“Ma'am, Scissori is calling,” a comm rating reported.
“Damn it, does that man ever listen? I told him to maintain comm silence!” the captain growled. She stabbed a finger on the accept key. “Tao, when are you ever going to learn to keep your yap shut?” she demanded.
“I wanted to know what the plan is. They can't be listening in on a laser line between us,” he stated.
She frowned. He had a point, but he had disobeyed her order.
“We need supplies,” he reminded her. “And they aren't sending tin cans as escorts anymore.”
“I have eyes,” she growled. “Okay, most likely they've taken Dead Drop by now. We'll wait this group out and then hit that comet your people found again.”
“We need more than fuel and water,” Tao said, clearly exasperated. “I'm down to half rations,” he said.
“Which is probably doing wonders for your waist line. Maybe even your fat ass. Hunger does sharpen the reflexes and mind,” she replied. “All right,” she said. “We'll fall back to the cache in B-97C and then look into stopping in SNHH. If the enemy is
n't there, we can hopefully resupply and then get out before they arrive.”
“Understood.”
“But we're not doing anything until that convoy is gone. Not just out of sight I mean gone.”
“Understood.”
“Dao out,” she growled, hitting the disconnect key. She scrubbed her face for a moment. “What have I gotten myself into,” she murmured.
Chapter 25
Horath
Three days after Imperial Day an unannounced arrival at the Finagle jump point had the defenses scrambling. They stood down almost immediately as the battered convoy flashed their IFF once they were clear of their hyper wakes.
The scheduled arrival was weeks late but there was always some flexibility in the schedule. What wasn't flexible was the discrepancy in the number of arriving ships. Only one cruiser was escorting the seventeen freighters; the other was missing.
The convoy master immediately got on the radio to scream bloody murder about the Federation pirates haunting Finagle.
-~~~///^\~~~-
Malwin had been off for the week in a rare vacation time, but the arrival had him and the other admirals scrambling back to the Admiralty to get the full download and formulate a reaction. The two cruiser escorts had been undamaged. The reason only one had returned was because the other had remained as a picket in Finagle. Admiral Quartermain had stayed on mission to chase the enemy cruiser squadron out of the area.
Ten of the freighters had arrived damaged with their ships and precious cargos mangled. The loss of the munition ship was extremely painful, it had been their first attempt to get modern Federation missiles shipped in from El Dorado.
The one spot of good news was that there were four additional surviving ships in Finagle. A relief mission as well as a larger picket was immediately formulated. Theo signed off on the mission and then worked on a way to spin it to the palace and the public. No doubt he was going to catch some flak for not thinking of it earlier.
